


Good Old Fashioned Heat

by myleftsock



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But Not From Sex, First Time, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sauna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myleftsock/pseuds/myleftsock
Summary: Lorenz falls from his horse and Manuela recommends heat therapy in the sauna. Claude helps.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 74
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	Good Old Fashioned Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill for [Claude/Lorenz massage/sauna sex](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?replyto=2958152&thread=2958152), hope you enjoy!
> 
> And for anyone who’s curious, this takes place pre-timeskip, but after Claude turns 18.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much more I can do for you, Lorenz.” Manuela sighs and lifts her hands from Lorenz’s aching back. “That was quite a fall, and you’re lucky you got off as easily as you did.”

It doesn’t feel trivial, even after Manuela’s healing and reassurance. Being knocked from his horse is embarrassing enough, but this adds injury to insult. At least his beloved mount is faring better than he is.

“Is there nothing that will help?” Lorenz asks, wincing as he shifts his weight.

“As far as magic and medicine have come, sometimes you can’t beat good old fashioned heat. Why not try the sauna? It always does wonders for my tired muscles.”

Lorenz isn’t usually a fan: public nudity, shared spaces, and sweltering heat… But his muscles ache so much that he’s willing to take the risk. 

He hobbles from the infirmary to the sauna, which waits for him blissfully empty. Lorenz smiles in spite of the pain—until he removes his shirt. His muscles pull and twist like they’ve been tied in knots, and bending down to remove his pants is excruciating.

He is far too young to feel this way, even from a riding injury. 

Steam fills Loren’s nose and lungs, all consuming. He lowers himself carefully onto the bench and leans back into a comfortable position.

Manuela, as usual, is right—the heat feels incredible. The steam isn’t so bad either. Perspiration collects on Lorenz’s chest, clinging to his muscles until the droplets grow too heavy and fall, pooling at his abdomen. At least there’s no one around to see him sweat, though he drapes a small towel over his lap for modesty. Before long, his eyes close. Sleep does not claim him, but he’s so relaxed he doesn’t hear the door open and shut.

“Lorenz!” Of all the people who could catch him in such a vulnerable state, it would be Claude. “How are you? You took quite a tumble on the field today.”

Lorenz cracks one eye open. “Pardon me, but you are interrupting medically indicated therapy.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Claude doesn’t look sorry at all, and only a tiny, loose towel covers Claude’s shame. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

He lets the towel fall and Lorenz’s eyes go wide at the sight of his round rear. Lorenz has been naked with other men in this very sauna before, never with Claude. This is by design: it’s much harder to hate Claude in the face of his divine skin, already glistening with sweat. He’s hairier than Lorenz imagined (and yes, Lorenz had imagined him, more times than he could admit even to himself). 

Claude makes a show of turning around, like he knows he’s being watched.

Lorenz squeezes his eyes shut but it’s too late. The image is burned in his brain: Claude’s, er,  _ member,  _ soft and resting atop its lovely, downy pillow. It’s very, very hard to hate him now. 

“It’s just, weren’t you saying the other day that only amateurs fall from their mounts?” 

Claude sounds close, but his comment is so rude that Lorenz doesn’t think before his eyes and mouth fly open to argue.

No words come out because Claude’s nether region fills his vision, topped in thick, deep brown curls. 

“Claude!” Lorenz finally manages. “What is the meaning of this?”

Claude bends down, backing up a bit and putting blessed space between his private parts and Lorenz’s face. Not that being face to face, fully nude, is any less rattling.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to freak you out, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Lorenz sits up straighter, trying not to wince at the strain in his upper and lower back. “I did not  _ freak out. _ There is a certain etiquette to the sauna, that is all.”

Claude frowns and flicks his gaze from Lorenz’s face to his shoulders. “Hey, you sure you’re all right? That face you just made…”

“Merely a reaction to your impropriety,” Lorenz says hastily, as if Claude’s concern doesn’t bring more heat to his cheeks than the steam.

Claude crosses his arms. “I don’t think it’s polite to react to other people’s bodies in the sauna.”

For a second, Lorenz almost believes, but Claude’s smirk betrays his tone. “You know perfectly well this has nothing to do with your physical form but rather your physical proximity.”

“Oh?” Claude raises an eyebrow. “So, for the record, no complaints about my physical form?”

Lorenz makes a disgusted noise and holds his towel over himself so he can stand. Sharp pain seizes his nerves and he collapses with a hiss. 

“Whoa, careful, Lorenz!” 

Lorenz never hits the floor, but his towel does. Strong, slick arms catch him (because this moment wasn’t already humiliating enough).

“Easy there…” Too gently, Claude lowers Lorenz to the bench. He doesn’t let go, and Lorenz minds less than he cares to admit. “You really did a number on yourself, huh?” 

“No, the bandit who dislodged me did,” Lorenz says, voice stiff as his back. 

“Don’t worry.” Claude leans in so close Lorenz can feel his breath. “I shot him in the eye.”

Lorenz swallows, and hate is the furthest thing from his mind. “Thank you.”

Claude’s smile destroys the rest of his pride. “It’s the least I could do after you bailed me out of that corner the other day. We might not always see eye to eye, but we have each other’s backs.”

And before Lorenz can chew on the deeper meanings of that declaration, Claude turns around to retrieve a vial of oil. 

“Speaking of backs, how about a massage?”

So much for relaxation. Every muscle in Lorenz’s body tightens at the thought of (naked) Claude running his hands all over Lorenz’s (naked) body. 

The steam slows his brain and it’s all he can do to make a simple list for and against accepting the offer. 

Against: Claude is always up to something.  
For: Claude has proven himself trustworthy multiple times.  
Against: Lorenz hates Claude’s dismayingly handsome face.   
For: Lorenz’s back is killing him.

It’s a tie. But the truth is, a massage would get him back in fighting shape sooner, which is a boon to the Golden Deer and the academy. Certainly Lorenz possesses the self-control necessary to appreciate the massage at face value. 

“If you insist.” Lorenz makes it sound like he’s the one doing Claude a favor. “I’m sure you’d do the same for any of your housemates.”

“Right,” says Claude. “Something like that. Now can you lie on your stomach?”

Suddenly, Lorenz remembers he’s naked. Claude von Riegan has now seen everything Lorenz has to offer. With a twist of guilt, he wonders what Claude thinks. 

But he does as his house leader says, rolling with effort into his stomach, arms and legs dangling over the bench as he tries not to think about how many people have sat and sweated here.

Claude positions himself between Lorenz’s legs and Lorenz loses the ability to think entirely.

“This okay?” Claude asks. 

Everywhere their bodies touch is on fire, but Lorenz manages to nod and squeak out, “Fine.” 

Claude pours a stream of hot oil on his spine, turning the squeak into a gasp. Claude chuckles, low and rich, then presses one hand to Lorenz’s lower back.

“Ahh…” 

He’s barely even started and Lorenz is already moaning. How mortifying! If Lorenz weren’t so desperate for relief, he’d up and leave, but…

But Claude’s hands are magical. His thumbs dig grooves on either side of Lorenz’s spine and Lorenz’s body goes limp. Well, most of his body.

One part of him is very much awake, and very much aware that the same part of Claude is currently pressed against his thigh. Claude isn’t as excited about it, but that doesn’t change their position or their state of dress.

Lorenz’s muscles turn to jelly beneath Claude’s hands. This must be how steak feels, salted, tenderized, and worked to succulent perfection by a gifted chef. Claude rubs his hips and drags his palms up either side of Lorenz’s spine and down, pulling another moan from him and throwing it all over the scale like choir practice. 

Claude’s...anatomy sticks to Lorenz’s thigh when he arches his back, peeling loose to shift with him. Lorenz gasps, not in reaction to the massage but to their intimate state. His own...anatomy rubs awkwardly across the bench, growing harder by the moment. 

“Good spot?” Claude murmurs. His hands cut in below Lorenz’s shoulder blades and fog a moment, Lorenz believes he’s talking about the massage, then Claude slides forward, pushing himself flush against Lorenz’s parted cheeks.

“Claude?” 

Is it just his imagination, or is Claude a bit more excited now? Of course, it pales in comparison to Lorenz’s interest, and a realization pulses through him: no woman, no matter how beautiful, has ever given him this reaction, nor has any man for that matter. Just Claude. Sexy, intelligent, infuriating Claude, with his tousled hair and magic fingers. Lorenz shifts his hips to try to hide his erection, but it only brings him more friction fore and aft. 

“Oh, Lorenz…” 

Claude is definitely getting harder and hotter against him, and now he’s sliding his hips back and forth. The sweat between them eases the glide, and a soft moan slips past Claude’s lips. Perhaps Lorenz’s crush is not so one-sided after all, and he cocks his own hips back, whimpering Claude’s name and following his lead for the first time since coming to Garreg Mach. 

“I want to fuck you, Lorenz.” For some reason, that vulgar word resonates like fine music when Claude says it. He runs his hands down Lorenz’s back to the curve of his rear, dipping into the crevice. “I want to douse you in oil and split you apart.” 

“Claude!” 

“Let me stick my cock in you,” Claude goes on, rubbing Lorenz with his whole body now. “I promise I’ll make you feel  _ so _ good.”

“I—I’ve never…”

Claude’s sharp hiss rolls through Lorenz, and Lorenz feels him throb between his cheeks. “I’ll be gentle, if that’s what you want. But you can’t pretend like you don’t want me.”

“I...I do…” Lorenz can barely get the words out. He’s leaking all over; it’s never like this when he’s alone, even when he penetrates himself. 

“Shh…” Claude leans forward, pressing all of his hard, slick body against Lorenz’s. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Maybe it’s the steam, maybe it’s the dull thrum in his aching back, or maybe it’s the feelings he’s been burying since he first laid eyes on Claude von Riegen, but he purrs out a yes. 

Claude massages his rear, fingers pressing into muscles Lorenz didn’t realize were sore. “Your ass is amazing,” Claude says, “and I can’t wait to be inside you, so tight and hot…”

_ Oh, _ Lorenz had no idea he was into such filthy talk. Every time Claude says  _ ass  _ or  _ fuck _ or  _ cock, _ a little thrill shakes Lorenz. He can’t stop to think about why he suddenly trusts Claude, or how it wasn’t sudden at all, how he’s dreamed about this and imagined them together. Lorenz turns his neck to see, and the vision numbs the pain. Claude is beautiful, from the hazy look in his eyes to the dark hair clinging to his chest, down to his flushed, swollen cock. He’s reacting to Lorenz: noble, pure, “saving myself for the perfect wife” Lorenz. 

This is way better than waiting.

Claude retrieves the oil, and it’s poetic: the same oil he used to unravel Lorenz’s muscles is going to tear him apart. If the rumors are true, sex won’t help his back, but Claude wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. 

“Do you finger yourself, Lorenz?” Claude pours the oil over his own hand and Lorenz watches it run down his fingers. They’re thick and callused from years of archery, and Lorenz shudders with excitement. 

“Yes…” Lorenz manages, licking his lips, tasting the steam and sweat. He clears his throat and repeats it, lower and clearer.

“Do you think of anyone?” Claude presses those slick fingers to the cleft of his ass. “Do you think of me?” 

_ “Ahh!” _ Any favors the sauna did for his voice fade away and he loses control of it completely. When Claude’s fingers graze his rim, his secrets spill out: “Yes, yes, I think of you, now  _ fuck me,  _ Claude!”

Claude growls low in his throat and pushes two fingers inside.

They’re definitely bigger than Lorenz’s own, and that intimate stretch burns in the most exquisite way. No one has ever touched him there, and no one else ever should. 

Claude makes a brazen sound and Lorenz realizes anyone could walk in on them at any moment.

_ Fuck, _ that just makes it hotter. He pushes back against Claude’s fingers, over the broad span of his knuckles, and it’s so good Lorenz could cry. How could this feel so different, just because it’s Claude’s hand, Claude’s perfect fingers, curling inside him and—

_ “Ohh!” _

Surely the entire monastery heard him, but Lorenz doesn’t care because he just saw the Goddess and he doesn’t even believe. He ascended on Claude’s fingers, and he’s still climbing higher, pleasure brimming inside him until it spills over. 

Claude kisses the back of his neck and pushes another wet finger inside. It’s wider than Lorenz has ever stretched himself, but instead of pain, he feels enlightened, full and aching for more. 

Claude fucks him on three fingers, knuckles rubbing his inner walls, hitting erogenous zones Lorenz didn’t know he had. He could come apart just from this, just from Claude’s hand thrusting in and out of him, but…

“Your cock, Claude, I need—”

He doesn’t care how desperate and dirty they sound: the curses, the wet squelch of Claude’s fingers, and Claude’s heavy breaths, proof that Lorenz maintains a modicum of control. 

Claude pulls his fingers out and lines Lorenz up on his lap. This angle is not going to do Lorenz any favors tomorrow but it’s perfect today—the deep arch of his spine, putting him right where Claude needs him. 

The tip of Claude’s cock presses against him, hot and sticky slick. If it feels this good outside of Lorenz it’s going to feel amazing inside, and Claude gasps, like he’s just as sensitive.

Neither of them can take it when Claude pushes in. Lorenz moans as his rim engulfs the head, and it’s so much better than fingers—hot, vibrant, and throbbing to the beat of Lorenz’s heart. Claude growls something vile about his tight little hole and sparks of pleasure shoot down Lorenz’s spine. 

“Are you ready?” Claude crackles with energy, cock twitching and legs vibrating. Lorenz feels all of it, all of him, and he nods, ragged. “Tell me if it hurts.”

And with that warning, he grabs Lorenz by the hips and pulls him close.

It’s pleasure and pain, relief and agony, and fullness like he’s never known. As much as it burns, he’s whole on Claude’s cock, and fuck, he’s never felt so alive. Their skin bonds with sweat, ripping apart like a bandage when Claude draws out. He doesn’t go far before thrusting back in with a long, smooth stroke. It’s better this time, and the next, and the next, because each time he reaches further, until there’s no pain at all. Lorenz is open and free. 

They’re on the edge of something—not just Lorenz’s orgasm, imminent given the way his cock keeps rubbing the bench and Claude’s cock keeps kneading his prostate. Something emotional, not primal. It’s in the way Claude cradles his hips and presses open kisses his neck. It’s in the way Lorenz reaches back to grasp any part of Claude he can. Their hands clasp, saying more than either of them can manage aloud. 

But epiphanies are for later; for now it’s enough to be fucked raw in the sauna, steam coiling tight around them, making it even harder to breathe. 

“C-come on, Lorenz…” Like his voice, Claude’s thrusts grow erratic. He’s barely hanging on. “I know you can come for me.” 

Everything’s a contest, and Lorenz is only too happy to lose this one. He squeezes Claude’s hand tight and grinds against the bench, falling apart in a slow ooze of thick, hot come. It’s nothing like the usual quick, shameful spurts when he jerks himself off. This comes from deep inside, like Claude is stroking his very soul. 

He collapses flat on the sticky bench, spent, sore, and ready to offer Claude whatever his body has left. 

Claude doesn’t need much. Another haphazard thrust and he’s finished, filling Lorenz in rapid pulses he can feel from inside. It’s almost as good as a second orgasm, and greedily, Lorenz tries to draw it out, pulling every drop he can. 

Half-formed words drift through the hot air but Lorenz puts them together:  _ you, I,  _ we,  _ incredible… _

It is incredible. Incredible that their truce lasts about five more minutes. 

“How’s that for impropriety?” 

Lorenz frowns at Claude’s disruption. “You are incapable of simply enjoying a moment, aren’t you?”

“Aww…” Claude ruffles Lorenz’s hair, mussing it even worse than the sex. It clings to his forehead in some places and sticks up in others. “Are we having a moment?”

Stiffening, Lorenz drags himself forward and off of Claude, trying not to sigh at losing that contented feeling. “Oh, forgive me for daring to linger on the loss of my most precious gift.” 

“You’re more than your virginity, Lorenz.” Claude helps him into a sitting position. His back still hurts, and now his rear feels strange, too. He tries not to think about leaking Claude’s seed all over the bench, or how it mingles with his own. “You’re also stubborn, idealistic, ambitious…”

“You act as if those are not admirable qualities.” But Lorenz can’t summon his usual bravado because kindness lies beneath Claude’s words.

Claude scoots forward, molding himself to Lorenz’s back. “Did I mention that you’re also incredibly flexible and you look unreasonably sexy all splayed out on my cock?”

A shudder takes Lorenz, shades of his lust and rapture from only moments ago. He allows himself to lean against Claude, and he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “That sort of talk can stay where it belongs.” 

“You’re also sweet.” Claude presses a kiss to his sweat-slicked cheek. “And you’re mine.”

“I—I most certainly am not!” Heat rushes Lorenz’s face and he feels dizzy—the sauna is getting to him. He stands abruptly and grabs a towel, wiping the stained bench furiously. 

Claude grins. “Hey, look who’s getting around better!” 

He has a point. Lorenz didn’t even realize it, but his back feels much better. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“Oh, I would never ask you to do that.” 

Lorenz holds the soiled towel between two fingers and stares at Claude. The world between them has shifted, irrevocably. 

“Well, then.” Lorenz exits the steam room to dress himself. Relief overwhelms him once he’s from the oppressive heat and Claude’s inescapable scrutiny, and he takes such a deep, satisfying breath, he doesn’t hear Claude come in behind him. 

“Until next time?”

Lorenz turns back at Claude’s voice, cheeks still hot, and Claude is so gorgeous it’s hard to breathe again. 

With a curt nod and a shiver of anticipation, he takes his leave.

They still don't see eye to eye and may never, but for the time being, relations are certainly looking up.


End file.
